Deaths of Flowers

Deaths of Flowers

I would if I could choose
Age and die outwards as a tulip does;
Not as this iris drawing in, in-coiling
Its complex strange taut inflorescence, willing
Itself a bud again - through all achieved is
No more than a clenched sadness,

The tears of gum not flowing.
I would choose the tulip's reckless way of going;
Whose petals answer light, altering by fractions
From closed to wide, from one through many perfections,
Till wrecked, flamboyant, strayed beyond recall,
Like flakes of fire they piecemeal fall.

- E. J. Scovell

It's amazing how many times the daily poem in this book has been so appropriate for what was going on in my life that day. This is another such occasion!

Today was the day of Mum's funeral, and how poignant it was that the very flowers described in the poem were the main ones used in the arrangements both on her coffin and at the church!

Mum was just like the tulip in the poem rather than the iris. During her life she was never showy or flamboyant like the iris and neither did she draw inwards and shut herself off as she neared her death; but by contrast she became more and more like the tulip, opening herself up and becoming more and more beautiful as she aged.

It was a very special day and wonderful to see so many people who loved Mum so much. Everything went smoothly - Daveen did a great job of organizing the whole event!